A loaded gun won't set you free
by 874509
Summary: A gritty retelling of the Fallout new Vegas story. If all goes to plan it should focus on isolation, greed, revenge and insanity. It'll have swearing, violence all that good stuff. Read and review.
1. Prologue

A loaded gun won't set you free.

Prologue.

The wire cut into my wrists. I look up at my attackers, the two low rent guns for hire, and the man in the fancy jacket. The lights of the new Vegas strip illuminate the night sky. A beacon of hope for the naïve. They were talking among themselves, occasionally glancing at me. I can hear a few other people behind me, the sound of digging. I look down testing the wire again. It slices the skin.

"Guess who's waking up over here." One of them calls.

The man in the fancy jacket takes one last drag of his cigarette, before throwing it on the ground. "Time to cash out." He says stepping over.

"Will you get it over with." The second of the thugs says, looking anxious.

Fancy jacket hold up his finger. "Maybe Kahn's kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a think, dig?" He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a chip. "You made your last delivery kid." He puts the chip back, pulling out a gun. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene. From where you're kneeling must seem like an eighteen carrot run of bad luck." He raises the gun, aiming at my head. The 'Khans' look relieved. "Truth is… the game was rigged from the start."

Everything goes black.

* * *

AN/ I've seen people do these author's notes or whatever the A and the N stand for so I decided to do one. this is gonna be a written version of fallout new Vegas, partly cause I can't think of an original story and partly cause it's quite a fucking good game. The title is a line of lyrics lifted form 'New Dawn Fades' by Joy Division. Yeah read, review call me a cunt cause I get something wrong, although it's the internet, you'll call me a cunt if I get it right. Future chapters will be considerably longer than this one.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My heads pounding. My throat feels like I just ate sand straight from the Mojave. I open my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. There's a ceiling fan above me. I blink trying to get everything into focus. The movement sends a searing pain from the left side of my head. I was shot. I should be dead. "You're awake, how about that." A male voice says over to my left. If I'm awake, then he doesn't want me dead.

I try to sit up swinging my legs over the side of the bed, operating table I don't know. I get light headed, almost falling forward. "Whoa, easy there." the man says reaching out to steady me. "Easy." He repeats, leaning back in his chair. "You've been out cold a couple of days now. Why don't you just relax a second, get your bearings, let's see what the damage is." He walks over, turning my head to the side. "Your stiches should be able to come out soon."

"I was shot." I say, thinking out loud. My voice is hoarse, hurts to speak. "I should be dead."

He looks me in the eye. "You damn near was. Lucky for you, ole Victor heard the commotion up on the hill, dug you out of that shallow grave."

"They buried me?"

He pauses looking up, nodding. "Yeah, Victor brought you here, I cleaned you up. You've been laid out for a couple of days." He moves away from me sitting back down in his chair. "You're shirts over there, not the cleanest mind you." He says gesturing to a table.

I stand up, supporting myself on the bed. "It wasn't very clean when I brought it." I mumble.

"There's also a note, I hope you don't mind, but I looked at the note… hoped it'd help me find a next of kin… your gun and holster are also there." I pick up my .44 magnum, it's not in the best condition that's probably why they didn't take it. I put the belt on, slipping the gun into my holster before pulling on the beaten brownish shirt.

"You got a mirror?" I ask. He points me in the general direction. I step into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, I take in my appearance. Worn greyish boots, fading and dirty black jeans, beaten and blooded shirt, slicked back black hair thick stubble. There's a purple and black area next to my left eye, a patch work of stitches around the middle. I look down at my wrists, there's thin cuts running around them.

The man, the doctor or surgeon, I assume walks in. "You always that pale?" he asks, I just nod.

I turn to him quickly. "You know anything about the men that shot me?" I ask him.

He shakes his head, thinking. "If I were you I'd try asking Victor. You go outside, you won't miss him."

I nod walking past him towards the exit. "I'll pay you when I get some caps." I call reaching the front door.

"Hey, talk to Sunny Smiles, she should be able to get you some ammo for that hand cannon of yours, might even teach you how to live of the land." I nod my thanks before grabbing the door handle. "Err, one more thing. You could use this." I turn around to see him holding a piece of pre-war tech. "It's called a pip-boy it's what they use down in those vaults of theirs, figured you could use it more than me." He shrugs.

I take the 'pip-boy' out of his hands. "Thank you." I rasp out. "There a saloon?" I ask. He nods. "I'll be back, when I've got enough caps to pay you." I open the door and step outside. I squint from the sudden change in lighting. I look down at the pip-boy, sliding it onto my left wrist, I press a button and it boots up.

The three buttons at the bottom start to glow a slight orange. I look up from it scanning the town for the saloon. The _pip-boy _starts beeping, I look down to see a message flashing on the screen. I try closing the message, just for another to take its place. "Piece of shit." I hit the side of the screen, causing the message to close, permanently. I look up again spotting the saloon, heading straight there, while ignoring the useless piece of equipment on my arm. I walk through the open door of the saloon. Taking in the people around, the old man sat outside by the door, the woman behind the bar and the woman and dog. _Sunny Smiles what a fucking name._ I move over to the bar, searching my pockets for caps, seven those rent-a-guns didn't steal anything, apart from the package.

I sit down on the closest bar stool. "What'll you have?" The woman behind the bar asks walking over.

"Beer." I reply.

She pulls one out from behind the bar. "That'll be four caps." I place the caps on the bar. "Anything else?" she says scooping them up.

"Yeah, where can I find _Sunny Smiles_?" I say opening the bottle.

"My ears are burning." A voice says from behind me. "Cheyenne, stay." A woman sits down in the stool next to me. I turn to face her, her eyes immediately going to the gunshot wound on the side of my head. "So you're Goodsprings resident ghost." She states. "The whole town can't shut up about you."

I grunt in response, taking a drink of my beer. "The doctor or surgeon or whatever he is, told me to talk to you."

"Doc Mitchell, yeah I can help you learn how to shoot straight, keep you alive." She sates. "Follow me." She slides of her stool, walking to the back door. She slaps her thigh and the dogs jumps up follow her out the door. I down rest of my beer before following her out. She hands me the rifle she was carrying on her back. "Shoot those Sarsaparilla bottles over there." She says pointing to them. I push the stock into my shoulder, taking aim. I fire at the first bottle, quickly ducking away as the loud sound of the gunshot causes the side of my head to throb. I drop the rifle, pressing my hand to the wound.

"I'm gonna need a minute." I rasp out.

"You won't get that in the middle of a firefight, pick up the rifle shoot the others down!" she demands, I ignore her, She keeps shouting at me to shoot the bottles. Finally I straighten up, drawing the .44 at my hip, I pull the hammer back firing at the first bottle I see, hitting it. I move on to the one next to it hitting that one, _barely_ I move on to the next, pulling the trigger only to be met with the clicking of the hammer and firing pins. I pull the trigger a couple more times before slamming it back into the holster. "Whoa, easy there cowboy." Sunny says from beside me. "Good shooting."

"Thanks." I groan, picking up the rifle I dropped earlier.

"I've got to clear out some Geckos, you're welcome to come and help." She says raising an eyebrow. I shake my head handing her the rifle. "I've got some .44 rounds, they're yours if you help."

"How many." _Bullets will save your life out there._

"I'd say about a dozen and a half." She says, casually checking her nails.

"Alright, I'll help." She smiles hand me the rifle. She strolls back into the saloon emerging a minute later with another rifle. "Let's go." She says walking towards the boarder of the town. "So, what do you do?"

I think about it for a few seconds before answering. "I'm a courier."

"Couriers normally pack heat like that?" She says nodding to my revolver.

"I do, raiders on the roads." I tell her. "Seemed like a good idea to be armed."

"We're here. You take the two on the right, I've got the left." We raise our rifles, taking aim. I squeeze the trigger hitting the Gecko in the back, the force throwing it to the ground. I hear Sunny fire her rifle, I pull the bolt back firing at the other Gecko, hitting it in the stomach. It drops, I put another round in its head. I turn to look at Sunny she fires one last round hitting the Gecko in the throat. "That was easy."

"Yeah. 'Bout those rounds." I say leaning the rifle against my shoulder.

"Oh right, here." She pulls out a box of ammo and a few lose rounds from her pack passing them to me. "You should talk to Trudy, she's like the towns mum and she'd never forgive me if you didn't talk to her. She owns the saloon."

"Alright, I'll get on that." I take out my gun, empting the shell casings and loading the new rounds in.

"And you should probably talk to Victor, the robot fella."

I scoff. "I've got better things to do than talk to a glorified tin can."

She frowns at my answer. "He's the one who got you out of that grave." She sates.

"Thanks, but I'm more interested in the man who put me in it." I tell her.

She just nods absently. "What's your name? I mean you know mine."

"Rick ju… just Rick." I hold out my hand, she shakes it.

"Just Rick? No second name?" she laughs slightly.

"Never needed one." I sate. "Nice meeting you _Sunny._"

"Good luck Rick… keep the rifle."

I step into the saloon, walking over to Trudy. "You've been causing quite the stir." She says without looking up. "Didn't want to bother you earlier, looked busy."

"I'm trying to track down the people who attacked me. Know anything about them?" I ask her leaning against the bar.

"Not much, other than they're a bunch of freeloaders who expected a few rounds on the house. I was able to get them to pay up, though." She pauses, wiping down the bar. "Of course, one of the Great Khans did knock my radio to the floor 'by accident,' and it hasn't been working since."

"Did they say where they were heading?"

She thinks about it for a few seconds before answering. "They were having some kind of argument about it, but the guy in the checkered coat kept shushing them. Sounded like they came in from the north through Quarry junction. If that's the case I can't say I blame them for not wanting to go back."

"Why's that?"

"That whole area's overrun with the kind of critters that just get mad if you shoot 'em. Merchants avoid that whole stretch of I-15 like it's radioactive. Which it could be for all I know."

"So where were they headed?" this conversations starting to drag out a bit too much for my liking.

"I didn't hear exactly, but the leader was talking about the Strip." _Great_. "Fella wants to get there and avoid the 15, he'd have to go east. Take Highway 93 up."

"Thanks for the info." I tell her walking to the doorway. _Now to the Strip, which is notoriously difficult to get into. I could try the Mojave Express offices in Primm._ I look down at the pip-boy pressing the first orange button, the screen brings up a picture of a cartoon man. Little bars and next to the names of organs. _My vitals?_ I press the middle button, bringing up a log of my equipment. The final button has journal entries taken from holotapes and a map of the Mojave wastes. "Maybe not so useless after all."

Primm, the home of the Mojave Express and currently the base of a military operation to try and force a surrender out of a gang calling themselves 'Powder gangers' probably sounded better on paper. The NCR trooper eyes me up as I walk through the checkpoint. "This seems a bit undermanned." I call back to him.

"NCR's been pushing against these _Powder gangers_ for months, we're stretched thin." He tells me quietly. "Been getting reports of Caesar's Legion on top of that."

That stops me in my tracks.

"Caesar's Legion? They're pushing west?"

He nods his head slowly. "Yeah, and I hate to break this to you, but right now… NCR won't stand a chance." He turns, shouldering his rifle. "If you need to go into Primm, keep insight of the snipers and keep your guns holstered."

I nod my thanks, moving towards the bridge. _Caesar's Legion the biggest gang of murders and rapists there ever was. Only force the NCR is even a little scared of, not even the Brotherhood of Steel strikes fear into the heart of the NCR._ I step into the casino, the Mojave Express looks shot up. I spot the guy who owns the Mojave Express. The guy who was meant to pay me. I sit down across from him, "Can I help you?" He sounds uncertain.

"I've come to ask about a package I was meant to deliver."

"Meant to deliver? I suppose that's a way of saying you fucked up?" He says raising an eyebrow.

"I got shot." I point to the bruises and stitches.

"Alright what were you meant to deliver." He leans back, rubbing his temples.

"A chip, made out of platinum."

"Ah, courier… six. That was a peculiar package, never seen anything like it before." He takes a swig of the sarsaparilla on the table. "The man who was meant to take it… backed out at the last second."

"Why'd he back out?" I lean closer onto the table.

He just shrugs. "Don't know, he saw your name on the list, said he couldn't do the job and then left." He takes another swig. "Maybe it was a setup. Strange guy, wore an old flag on his back."

"Well I got jumped by some Khans and a guy in a fancy jacket, checkered." I tell him. "I was told they'd be heading for the Strip."

"If you going to the Strip, wait until day, less raiders and such on the roads. Of course I wouldn't blame you if you left now, NCRs just sat there with they're thumbs up their arses."

I push open the gate to Freeside, three days travel from Primm. I cough, violently, dehydrated. My water ran out about sixteen hours. The rifle feels heavy strapped to my back, the leather torn at the edges. A few of the people are wearing matching clothes, some sort of gang. I rest my hand on the butt of my revolver, ready to draw if the need arises. The bruises have started to heal and my stitches should need taking out soon. The Strips out of the question for the time being, I'll either have to make enough caps to pay for a passport or get in good with whoever runs Freeside, both of which are gonna be difficult.

"Hey partner, want a piece of free advice?" I turn to face an older man sitting on the curb.

"I'm not a cowboy." I tell him.

"Sorry, must be that big iron on yer hip." He laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "We'll just have to get you a hat, then you'll be all set."

"What was this advice you mentioned?"

"If you're gonna visit the Strip, talk to the gatekeepers first." I points to the robots in front of the gates. "They shoot trespassers on sight."

I look towards the gatekeepers. "You ever been on the Strip?"

"Umm, oh right, yeah worked as a bodyguard." He stands up slowly. "That was quite a few years ago now."

"Looking for a guy, with a fancy jacket. I think he might be on the Strip." I tell him.

"Lots of folk on the other side have fancy jackets. But if you need to get through those gates, try talking to the king… if you want to help the folks of Freeside, try talking to Julie Farkas in the old Mormon fort." I nod slowly. "Although if you want to get in with the king, you might want to help Freeside as best you can." He nods, walking away.

Old Mormon fort? I look around spotting it down the road. I walk through the open gates a few of the guards watch me carefully. A woman with a Mohawk starts moving towards me quickly. "Nice guns, hope you're not gonna shot anyone." She says, testily.

"I wasn't planning on it." I rest my hand on the butt of my revolver, her eyes follow the movement. "Sometimes it's out of my control."

"Well seeing as you have so little control over the events around you, can you relinquish your weapons?" She asks.

"How would I defend myself?" I cross my arms. She frowns, mirroring my actions. "I'll surrender the rifle." I sigh. "Not my handgun." I unsling the rifle passing it over to her. She smiles slightly.

"That the best I'm gonna get?"

"'Fraid so."

"Right then what's your business with the followers of the apocalypse?" she asks handing the rifle to one of the guards.

"Followers of the apocalypse? What are you, some kind of cult?"

She frowns. "No, we try to help people." She smiles to herself slightly. "Looks like you could use those stitches taking out." She points to the side of my face, grimacing slightly. "Looks nasty."

"That would be… helpful."

"Follow me, I'll take them out." I follow her to a tent, where she gestures for me to sit down. She starts looking at the stitches, before starting on taking them out. "Whatever happened, it looks like it was painful."

"I was shot."

She looks up from the wound. "Well… you're very lucky." She clears her throat. "What's your name?"

Flinching as she pulls a stitch out. "Rick, yourself?"

"Julie Farkas."

"Any work that needs done around here?" she stops what she's doing.

"We…well we made a deal with some mercenaries." She starts working on the stitches again.

"What was the deal?"

"That any meds they find, they bring to us. They haven't kept to it." She pauses again.

"I can go and inquire about that, if you want?" I tell her, flinching as she pulls another stitch out.

"I'm guessing you'd want payment for it?"

"Yeah, I would like payment." I pause for a couple of seconds letting her think about it. "That's if I survive."

"We wouldn't be able to give you much, but if you want to do it, you're more than welcome."

"Where abouts are they?"

"Nipton." She says quietly.

Nipton, a whole town full of liars, whores and criminals, not the best place to threaten a group of mercs into giving up a load of meds. The saloon that's where they'll be. I open the door, stepping through the threshold. The radio is on, some anti-NCR propaganda. The mercenary group I'm looking for are sat near the back. Some guy called Johnny.

I walk towards them, a group of about fourteen, they watch me as I walk closer. "You Johnny?" I call over to him.

He stops what he was doing, his mercs looking over. "That depends on whose asking." He's an older man short greying hair, thick moustache, red faced.

"Doesn't matter whose asking, either yes or no." I tilt my head clenching my jaw.

He stands up quickly, I put my hand on my gun. He slows down, eyeing the movement. "That kind of talk could get you killed in these parts. You've got balls I'll give you that." He eyes the gun again. "Yes I am Johnny." He sits back down. "Now what do you want?"

"The followers of the apocalypse made a deal with you. You've not kept to it, I've come to collect the meds."

"You think you can just walk in here and ask for quite a few thousand caps worth of meds?" he laughs standing up.

I draw my gun, aiming it at his head. "No, I'm demanding them." I pull the hammer back. "There's two ways this will go, you give them over and I walk out, or… we shoot the shit out of each other until I'm dead."

"Are you stupid boy?! You come in here threaten us and expect to walk out?!"

I step back towards the door keeping the gun trained on his head. "Yeah, I do." I pull the trigger the bullet strikes him in the jaw, tearing through the flesh and bone, the force turning his head to the side. The other mercs draw their guns. One pulls a knife and charges for me, I grab his arm twisting his arm sideways forcing him to drop the knife, hitting my forearm into his neck. The room fills with the roar of gunfire, the bullets slamming into the merc's back, he tries to scream, it's drown out by the gunfire.

I aim the gun over his shoulder pulling the trigger twice. Not checking to see if the bullets hit anything, I turn running for the door, throwing myself at it falling through. The wood splinters around me. I pick myself up quickly running for the nearest cover. There's an explosion behind me, the mercs aren't shooting at me anymore. I'm in a crossfire. "Legion!" A woman screams. I throw myself behind a building, unloading the empty shell casings. I look around the corner the saloon is up in flames, the legion have grenade launchers and assault rifles, firing at everything in sight. Nipton is being torn apart by gunfire. _This isn't good._

A man runs around the corner, one of the mercs from the saloon. "Hey it's you." He slams the butt of his rifle into my shoulder, hitting my back against the wall. He swings it into face throwing me to the floor, he drops it pulling out a knife. He tries to bring it down, I grab his wrists holding his arms up. The knife is over my throat. I manage to wrestle him off, knocking him to the side. We both stand up quickly, a grenade goes off behind him throwing him forward he lands on top of me. All I can hear is ringing, my side burns.

I open my eyes slowly. Turning my head to look around, the legion are lining people up against a wall, there's a few piles of bodies. "Fire!" the centurion orders, the soldiers pull their triggers. "Hang them for the NCR to see!" He gestures to the band of mercs, the soldiers hoist them screaming onto the poles. Crucifixion? "Congratulations! You have won second place." I turn my head slightly, seeing the centurion slap his hand on another man's shoulder. "Break his legs!" He calls dismissively. A couple of soldiers pin him down, holding a metal pole between his legs. A third comes forward with a sledgehammer. Slamming his ankles into the pole, shattering his ankles.

A couple of soldiers pull the body off of me, lifting me up by my arms. I hear myself grunt in pain before I can stop it. "This one's alive!" They drop me. I look down seeing the knife jammed into my side.

"You! Spread the word of what happened here, of Caesar's glory!" The centurion shouts. "Tell the NCR of their coming defeat at the hands of the legion." He pulls out his machete, walking over. "If you do not comply, I will sever your Achilles tendon and leave you in the desert with no water." He shrugs. "It's your choice."

I pull the knife out dropping to one knee, panting. "Not much of a choice." I rasp out. "But I'll take it." I grab my discarded revolver, limping away from the legion soldiers.

"Julie!" One of the guards yells. "He's back."

A couple of the followers run up to me, seeing the wound they grab my arms supporting me. Julie runs over. "What the fuck happened?" she asks frantically. "Where are the meds? Why are you bleeding?"

"I found the mercs, legion attacked Nipton." I struggle to stand slightly. "I was stabbed."

"Come on, get him to the medical tent."

I wake up, slowly coming to, my eyes adjusting to the light slowly. Trying to sit up my side starts stinging. "Oh, good you're awake." A female voice says to my side. "He's awake!" she shouts. I try to up off of the cot I'm lying on, a hand on my shoulder stops me. "Easy there, you need to rest."

"Water." My throat is sore, hurts to speak.

"Here, here." She hands me a bottle. "Small, slow sips." She instructs me.

"You said he was awake?" A new voice says also a female. I look up, Julie is sat next to the cot. A ranger is stood in the open tent flap, cowboy repeater slung over her shoulder.

"Yeah I am." I put my legs over the side of the cot, Julie puts her hand on my shoulder steadying me.

"I'm here because apparently you said something about the legion." The ranger says crossing her arms.

"Yeah that's right, legion attacked Nipton killed everyone there, burned the place to the ground." Julie looks shocked.

"Why'd they let you live?" the ranger asks eyeing me suspiciously.

"To spread word of what happened."

She nods slowly. "The New California Republic would like to thank you for your information." She nods again, turning on her heel and walking out.

"You okay?" Julie says quietly. Leaning in closer.

"Yeah." I mutter. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you your medicine."

She smiles slightly. "I'm just glad you made it back in one piece."

"If I find any meds, there yours." I say quietly.

"Hey, hang on you're not going anywhere yet." She pushes me back down. "Now rest. You need to heal." She stands, starting towards the opening.

"I killed Johnny." I say quietly, hoping she wouldn't hear. She does.

"What?" She turns around looking confused.

"The leader of the mercs, I shot him." I clarify.

"Oh." She doesn't know what to say.

"Don't ask why I'm telling you, I don't know."

"Well… was it unavoidable?" she walks closer, sitting back down in the chair.

I just shrug. "Might have been, might not." She looks at me sadly. "Doesn't matter, he's dead… probably would have died anyway."

"Is it the first time you've shot anyone?" She looks unsure, about asking.

"No, the first time… I couldn't stop shaking for a few hours afterwards, this is the third man I've shot." I tell her turning my head to look her in the eyes.

"Does it get any easier?"

"It shouldn't…" I turn away from her. I feel her hand rest on my shoulder. I look to the foot of the bed, my shirt and holster are placed there. The blood has been washed out as best as possible.

"It shouldn't?" Julie asks quietly.

"But it does."


End file.
